


The Serpent and the Dove

by Kat_Rowe



Series: Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Kissing, M/M, Prayer, Relationship Discussions, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, well maybe not fluff since it does advance the plot of the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe
Summary: When Aziraphale prayed for Crowley, to be allowed to try to help make up for what was lost to his friend, he didn’t expect an answer. After all, he hasn’t heard directly from the Almighty in thousands of years.The last thing he expects is an answer in the form of a dream with symbolism that’s ridiculously on-the-nose. But She is there; he can feel Her, more strongly than he has in ages, and it’s perfectly clear that She approves of his relationship with Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657927
Comments: 10
Kudos: 96





	The Serpent and the Dove

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Zorianne for the beta work and for picking up on some things I had missed. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
> 
> I always write Aziraphale as an empath, although it doesn't come up much in this fic. His habit of calling Crowley "dear" or "my dear" is lifted straight from the book. Also from the book is the idea that angels and demons don't have sexual organs, or even technically gender unless they specifically want to.

The hike had been wonderful, and so had the cuddling, and their agreement to deepen their relationship. Now they were about to crawl into bed together and Aziraphale couldn’t have been happier; his friend was wonderful at cuddling. Crowley didn’t comment when the angel slipped into the bathroom to change. Still, Aziraphale was under no illusions. Eventually, the topic of his biological asexuality would have to be broached. But Crowley didn’t seem to be in any hurry for things to progress beyond cuddling, and he obviously didn’t see his desire for privacy as another form of avoidance. Which was a relief. Old habits could be hard to break, and Aziraphale knew it hurt his friend when he instinctively edged back when he was meant to be stepping forward. After so many years of enforced distance, and all the strain that had come with it, he was resolved never to hurt his dear friend again. 

All he wanted was to relax in Crowley’s arms, to groom his wings and hold his hand, and to feel those unnaturally warm lips, loving and tender against his face. There might be a time when his friend found himself wanting more, maybe even when they _both_ would. Fortunately, Crowley was content with a slow pace, and obviously planned to take his time enjoying every facet of their newfound intimacy and freedom. Aziraphale was perfectly content with that, especially given how fast things had been going lately. He needed a bit of time to process it all, and adapt himself accordingly.

He was more than a bit nervous, especially when this was so important, so he pulled on an old, ankle-length nightshirt over his sleep-trousers. Quite warm and comfortable, but supremely uninviting. No human would ever mistake the ensemble for an attempt to look suave or sexy. Crowley’s clothes, on the other hand…

His heart fluttered pleasantly as he returned to the bedroom and saw his friend there, lounging comfortably in the bed with a glass of scotch in his hand and another waiting on the nightstand. The black silk of his pyjamas made his skin look even more pale than usual, and the abstract red embroidery near one shoulder made Aziraphale think of snakes, gardens, and apples. And of the ease with which one could be tempted into accepting something they already desired. 

Crowley was teasing him, probably. But he wasn’t being cruel about it, either. The pyjamas weren’t revealingly tight, and every button was fastened. Oh, he was so beautiful, and dangerously inviting. The ease with which he lounged in the angel’s bed, as if he belonged there, as if there was nothing remotely unusual about his having been invited to stay overnight…

Crowley watched him as he stood frozen in the doorway and, for a moment, Aziraphale thought he might make a joke about his apparel or his anxiety. Then he broke the spell with a smile and a casual gesture, telling Aziraphale, “I poured you a drink.” 

Just like that, everything felt as normal and familiar as their regular grooming sessions had become. After all, drinking with the former angel was a long-standing habit. Sighing with relief, Aziraphale moved to the bed, picking up his drink and sitting on the edge of the mattress, smiling warmly at his friend. “Comfortable?”

“Very. You?” Crowley asked, tone almost gentle. Obviously, he wasn’t asking about the bedding.

“Surprisingly comfortable,” he admitted, smiling shyly and sipping his drink. “A bit nervous, but I know that’s silly. I really do enjoy being close to you. It feels good, in so many ways.”

“Enjoying something doesn’t mean it can’t make you nervous,” Crowley pointed out, shrugging. “Especially when it’s new.” 

He was so kind and understanding of Aziraphale’s inexperience and anxiety. Setting his glass down, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek, sighing happily. Now that Heaven and Hell weren’t constantly looking over their shoulders, there was nothing he didn’t like about being close to the former angel. And there was no doubt that the feeling was mutual. Making a soft, peaceful sound, Crowley put down his own drink and drew the angel closer, kissing and nuzzling his face in a delightfully uninsistent way. 

“Oh, that feels wonderful, dear one,” Aziraphale breathed, sliding his fingers through Crowley’s. None of the kisses seemed to be sexual in nature, but that didn’t stop his skin from tingling everywhere those firm but gentle lips touched.

Crowley chuckled at his breathless tone, pressing his lips to the place where the angel’s neck joined his shoulder. When he finally spoke, he barely lifted his head at all, just enough to prevent his lips from brushing the angel’s skin.

“Are we doing pet names now?” he teased, voice low and almost lyrical. 

Aziraphale trembled a bit at the feel of his friend’s hot breath against such tender skin, and it took him a moment to remember to speak. Feeling a bit breathless, he pointed out, “You’ve been using one for me for centuries now. Longer, if we count the times you weren’t being polite about it.” 

“Yeah, but I have a smart-ass nickname for everyone.”

“Well, then it’s only fair that I have one for you,” he countered, squeezing Crowley’s fingers. “The nickname part, not the smart aleck part. You _are_ genuinely dear to me.”

“Shh, you don’t have to explain. I understand,” the former angel breathed, pressing another kiss to his shoulder. “Your skin is so cool.”

“And yours… isn’t,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. “It feels lovely.” 

“I’ll do it all night if you want,” Crowley offered, a smile in his voice as he kissed his way up Aziraphale’s throat. “Assuming I’m not going too fast for you.”

“Oh, be quiet,” he grumbled. “I haven’t said anything like that for over half a century and you know it. Besides, I only said it once.”

“Half a century isn’t very long. I’ve had naps that lasted longer.” 

Aziraphale smiled, mostly because his friend wasn’t remotely exaggerating. He’d gotten up every few years, but Crowley had spent the better part of the 1800s sleeping. For that matter, Aziraphale couldn’t honestly recall having seen him much between the 14th and 17th centuries, although the cold had probably contributed quite a bit to those naps. 

“I’m _not_ going too fast, am I?” he asked, pressing his lips to the corner of the angel’s mouth.

“I’m not sure that’s possible any longer,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist and urging him down onto the bed with him. “I was scared for a very long time, but never of you. Not really.” 

“And you aren’t scared any more?” he asked, sliding down and drawing Aziraphale close. 

“Terrified, but it’s wonderful, Crowley. I feel so free!”

“Well, you _are_ free now. We both are. Come here.”

He nodded in agreement, obediently closing his eyes and starting to snuggle close to his best friend, then freezing. “Oh!”

“What?” Crowley asked, frowning and drawing back. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I…” He hesitated, knowing that his friend would find it silly. _Most_ people would have, he knew, but he hadn’t actually prayed today, and he couldn’t end his day without a prayer. “Nothing’s wrong. I… I’m very much looking forward to spending all night in your arms,” he admitted, biting his lip and smiling shyly. “There’s just one small thing I need to go and attend to first.”

Frown deepening, the former angel studied his face more closely. “What is it?” he asked, voice soothing and encouraging. He clearly thought something was wrong, and obviously wanted to help with whatever it was.

“I just…” Clearing his throat and staring at the ceiling, he mumbled, “I need to pray.” 

“Pray?” Crowley repeated slowly. “And you need to leave for that why?”

“I know how you feel about the Almighty, Crowley. And… Well, I’m really not sure you’d be comfortable with me talking to Her while you’re right there.”

He looked… not annoyed or hurt, but _something_. Like he had a bad taste in his mouth. But he shrugged and flopped onto his back, looping his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “Go say your prayers, angel.” 

“I won’t be long,” he promised, resting a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and frowning when he didn’t even react to the touch. “It’ll just be a few moments, I promise.” At Crowley’s continued silence, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I just feel like I have so much to give thanks for right now.”

 _That_ got the former angel’s attention, and he stared up at Aziraphale with wide eyes. “What?”

He blushed, shrugging helplessly and squirming as he whispered, “It’s all been so wonderful, Crowley, everything that’s happened between us lately. I need to say thank you. Because we’re both still here, and only the will of the Almighty could have kept Heaven and Hell from deciding to come after us again.”

Crowley sat up slowly, reaching for Aziraphale’s hands. His expression was hard to read, full of too many emotions for the angel to be able to easily separate them all out. He looked confused, and maybe relieved, among other things, and so achingly fond of Aziraphale that the angel thought he might start crying if he didn’t look away soon. 

“Go, say your prayers,” he whispered, squeezing his hands and kissing his cheek before laying down again. This time, there was nothing sullen in his tone or manner as he added, “I’ll be here.” 

“Thank you,” he answered, kissing Crowley’s forehead and slipping from the bed. “I won’t be long,” he promised as he padded into his small living room. 

It wouldn’t take long at all. His prayers were always heartfelt and genuine, but seldom effusive. And, of course, it had been thousands of years since Aziraphale held even the remotest expectation of a prayer becoming a two-way exchange. So he’d say what he had to say, offer up his gratitude to a God who might have stopped listening before the Flood, and then crawl back into bed with the person he loved. It might have been a pointless gesture, but he _had_ to give thanks, just in case She was listening. If She still cared, he had to tell Her how he felt. He slid to his knees on the worn carpet, closing his eyes and clasping his hands over his heart.

“Almighty Lord God, I give You thanks this day. By Your will, this world continues to turn and the humans have been given a second chance. I… um, on a more personal note, by Your Grace my hard heart has been softened. I was blind for so long, and I could have lost Crowley because of it. But I know better now and I will _never_ let him go.” Swallowing hard, chest aching, he added, “Lord, I know it isn’t my place to ask favors, but this once, and because it’s not only for me, I beg You to hear my plea. Let me be the friend he needs and the comfort he deserves. You made me. You held me in Your hands and shaped me and whispered life into me.” Drawing a deep breath, wondering how he’d deviated so far from what he meant to say, he hurried on before he lost his nerve, “You did the same for Crowley, and it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to feel Your presence any more! Lord, I can’t ask You to change what’s been ordained, but please. Please, let me help make up, even if it’s only in some small way, for what he’s lost. He deserves _so much_ more than he’s had from his existence. He was once beloved in Your sight and he will always be beloved in mine. Let me help him. Give me the strength and understanding to always be good to him, and good for him.” 

He sighed as he finished, feeling drained, and a little queasy. He hadn’t prayed that long, or beseeched God so urgently, since right before the Flood. It was draining, physically as well as emotionally, and the knowledge that this prayer would probably never be answered left his eyes burning with unshed tears. No wonder Crowley was often so angry and cynical. He knew that the Almighty would never answer. Sighing and rubbing his face with his hands, he climbed wearily to his feet and returned to his bedroom.

He was cold, and it was a relief to crawl under the covers and press close to Crowley, soothed by his warmth. It felt like he was still holding all the heat of the sun they’d basked in today, and Aziraphale smiled to himself at that, since it must have felt absolutely delightful for his friend. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

*********

He was dreaming, probably. At least he couldn’t think why else he would be sitting on the eastern wall of Eden, watching a dove fluttering around in the dirt under The Tree. It didn’t seem hurt, but it continued to flutter. Which wouldn't have been alarming, but something dark was gliding through the shadows towards the tiny creature, slithering towards it.

“No,” he protested quietly, shaking his head and trying to wake himself. “I don’t like this dream.” 

And the symbolism was absurdly on-the-nose, of course. A dove and a snake. Ludicrous! Trust Heaven to be that uncreative in their attempt to tell him that they didn’t approve of his relationship with Crowley. As if he hadn’t already known that? Honestly! Making him dream of a bird being devoured by a serpent. Well, it could have been worse; it was just nature, after all. Which would undoubtedly be the point of this whole farcical dream, that Crowley could only hurt him. He sighed as the snake began slowly circling the dove, unable to move or look away.

The bird jerked away from the snake, falling over into the dirt and thrashing in panic for a moment before managing to right itself, its white feathers now dirty, dappled with dark spots. And then the snake closed in, slowly coiling around the bird. It hopped away, still not taking flight, but edging back a little more every time the serpent moved closer. 

They were in full sun now, and Aziraphale frowned as he realized that the bird didn’t actually have dirt on its feathers. The black smudges seemed to be just part of its natural coloring, even if they hadn’t been there a moment ago. And the snake no longer seemed dark and menacing. It was beautiful, its scales multicolored and iridescent, and there didn’t seem to be anything particularly predatory in the way it circled around the dove. It was like a dance between them, the snake trying to coil and the bird hopping away. And, just sometimes, it was the bird moving closer to the snake instead of the other way around. 

Frowning, he continued to watch the slow back-and-forth, perplexed as it occurred to him that this dream might not be the warning he’d thought. Then what was it meant to be? What lesson was he meant to be learning here?

The sunlight was wrong, he realized abruptly. The sunlight was not sunlight at all. The brilliant, beautiful light pouring down on the two animals was nothing natural. 

“Lord?” he whispered, eyes darting upwards. “Are You there?”

_Watch them, my child._

It wasn’t a voice, not really, but he knew that seeing this tableau was what was expected of him. And, for the first time in far too long, he felt the Presence of the Almighty, burning brightly in his chest and stomach. Oh, he’d missed that feeling. Tears of gratitude filling his eyes, he turned his gaze back to the animals, surprised that he could still see both clearly despite his watery eyes. The snake lay still on the warm earth, and the dove hopped over, nudging the other creature with its head. The serpent hissed, gave the dove a singularly unamused look, and tucked his head under his tail without making any attempt to move away. Or to drive the dove away. Cooing, the dove siddled right up against it and lay down, closing its own eyes and resting its head on the snake’s back.

The snake was large, muscled like a constrictor, and didn’t look like it had eaten recently, but it barely seemed to register the presence of the small, tasty animal. The two rested together for what could have been seconds or hours, then the snake began to move again, slowly coiling itself into a pile next to the bird and then stilling again. It looked calm, and comfortable, lulled by the warm light, perhaps. Or, he thought fleetingly, maybe it felt safe or comforted by the presence of the dove. It was quite a large dove, after all, probably more than capable of defending them both.

No flaming sword, though…

He smiled to himself at that, shaking his head. After a few missteps at first, they were friends, the snake and the bird. Of course they would be comfortable next to each other. Then the dove opened its eyes again, looking around almost anxiously for a moment, then hopping up onto the snake’s back and nestling down between its coils. This was the moment when, if there was any real danger to the bird, it would become manifest, but Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to worry.

The snake turned its head, tongue flicking out a few times as it scented the dove. Then, its head moved in what looked remarkably like an affectionate nuzzle. The angel smiled at that, something melting inside him. It was like watching a rottweiler nursing a kitten, or a fox curled up with a bunny, one of those uncommon moments that reduced people on the internet to either argue its authenticity, or else to hit random buttons on their keyboards to express how sweet they found it. Just the sort of metaphor that would appeal to the kind of Supreme Being who enjoyed The Sound Of Music.

And, apparently, after his pained prayer, it was a sight She had decided that Aziraphale needed to see, in all its ridiculous, glorious symbolism. Probably, now that the message had been conveyed, he could wake up if he wished. Instead, he continued to stand on the wall, watching the improbable pair and basking in Her Presence. It had been so long, but perhaps that had been necessary. After all, if he’d felt _too_ closely connected to Heaven…

Well, that didn’t really bear thinking about any more. His position in Heaven was in the past. His future was by Crowley’s side. He wondered, idly, if his feathers would change like the dove’s, or if that was just meant to represent the new state of his soul: not black, but no longer unstained, either. Neither idea particularly bothered him, and he willed himself down onto the ground, near the animals.

Both instantly woke, the snake hissing and the dove making a surprisingly aggressive sound, spreading its wings wide and snapping its beak. Aziraphale chuckled at that, holding up his hands.

“Don’t mind me, darlings. I’ll leave you be. You go on protecting each other, and don’t mind me in the least.”

“What in Heaven are you dreaming about?”

He gasped at that, jumping and spinning towards the sound of Crowley’s voice. “Are you really here?

“Apparently,” he answered, shrugging. “Either that or one of us is hallucinating”

“Well, I’m almost certain it’s a dream, I’m just not sure what _you’re_ doing in it.”

“Side-effect of sleeping too close to an empath, maybe?” Crowley ventured, shrugging and looking around. “Do you always dream about the Garden?”

He shook his head, biting his lip. “No. I hardly ever dream at all. I think this is a kind of response to the prayer I said before I went to sleep.”

Frowning, his friend asked, “What gives you that idea.”

“Um…” Clearing his throat and blushing a bit, he jerked his head in the direction of the serpent and the dove, back to slumbering comfortably together again.

The former angel stared down at them in silence for a long moment, then blinked. “Huh.” He fell silent again, then cleared his throat. “Dare I ask?”

“Oh, it’s… dreadfully complicated, and honestly not important,” he told Crowley, shaking his head. “Shall we wake up now?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen a bird like that. It looks like a dove, but the coloration…” Moving swiftly, he suddenly had the dappled bird cupped in his hands and a very agitated snake at his feet as he studied it.

“Crowley, what are you doing?” Aziraphale protested, staring at him with wide eyes. “Leave them alone!”

“Why? They’re just us, aren’t they?”

“Look how upset they are! Give him back!” he ordered, gesturing from the cowering bird to the hissing, rearing snake. 

Crowley glanced from Aziraphale to the bird cowering in his palms, frowning and gently returning it to the ground where the snake immediately coiled around it. Watching the bird ruffle itself a bit, then relax, he repeated, “Huh.”

Hugging himself and feeling uncomfortably exposed, he sighed, “Please, don’t do that again.”

“I thought it was just a subconscious representation. I didn’t see the harm,” he answered, stepping close and studying Aziraphale’s face, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

Unable to meet his eye, more than a little embarrassed over the whole situation, he explained, whispering, “They need to be together.”

“I see that, angel. Now,” he murmured, stepping close and letting go of his shoulder, reaching down to take his hands instead. 

“They were quite wary of each other at first,” Aziraphale continued, staring down at their linked fingers. “But now they can’t stand the idea of being apart.” 

“They won’t be, not any more,” Crowley promised, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the angel’s temple. “We’ll leave them in peace now. No one else will ever be able to reach them here.”

He nodded weakly, swallowing hard and letting himself be drawn deeper into the Garden, Crowley still gently caging his hands. He could no longer feel the Presence of the Almighty, and that made him ache for his friend. She must have gone as soon as Crowley appeared. Or had She brought him here and _then_ left? That implied something very different, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what.

“Let’s take a walk? Give the lovebirds their space?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded weakly. “Please.”

“Didn’t know co-dreaming was going to be part of the package,” Crowley noted as they walked. “I should probably have asked if you mind having me here.” 

“No, of course I don’t mind. I would have woken up if I did, ended this.” 

“Assuming you can wake up.”

“What?” he asked, frowning up at the former angel. 

“You implied that this might actually be some sort of message. You may not be in control.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale bit his lip. “Now that I’ve seen what I was meant to see, I assumed it would be easier to wake. But I haven’t tested it yet. Do you… Have you ever received communications of this sort in the past?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think Hell’s creative enough to hijack a dream, honestly. Wouldn’t realize the value of digging around in a human’s mind. But some humans do believe that they can receive Divine guidance in the form of dreams. I always thought they were being a bit delusional, honestly, but I assume you know Divine intervention when you see it.” 

“Yes, well, I may be imagining things, but I thought I felt Her Presence earlier. I was a bit worried at first that Heaven had decided to try to frighten me. About us, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, based on what I saw, that’s clearly not what this is. You _sure_ you haven’t imagined it yourself?”

“Please, as if I’d resort to such… _obvious_ symbolism?”

Crowley snorted at that, grinning and shaking his head. “Now you have me wondering how you’d actually represent me in a dream.”

“I think I’d just dream of you as you really are.” He shrugged, smiling up at Crowley. “I enjoy your company too much to surrender it just because I’m asleep.”

“It didn’t take you long to turn into a sap on me,” he noted, yellow eyes narrowing as he watched the angel. Then they widened and he frowned down at Aziraphale. “Were you praying for _permission_?”

“What? No!” he protested, shaking his head a little violently and tightening his hold on his friend’s hand. “Permission, Crowley? Honestly? After every other way I’ve defied Heaven? You really think I’d go back to being obedient when it was about you? About _us_?”

Crowley actually bit his lip at that, his scrutiny of Aziraphale turning into blank confusion. “Then what _were_ you praying for?”

He colored, looking away and squirming a little. “You’ll think me absurd if I tell you,” he whispered. 

“I promise not to laugh, angel,” he answered, tugging his hands free and lifting them to cradle Aziraphale’s face. “You’re always absurd, and I adore that about you, in case you hadn’t noticed over the past _six thousand years_.” 

He closed his eyes, leaning into that warm, loving touch with a hum of pleasure. “Do I have to tell you?”

“Of course you don’t,” Crowley assured him, following that up with a kiss to the forehead. 

He relaxed, uncertainty evaporating. After all, if a dove could be safe in the coils of a serpent… 

“I prayed that I could be a source of comfort and peace for you.” He opened his eyes at the silence that followed his words, biting his lip to see Crowley staring at him with wide, glossy eyes. He waited to see if his friend, his _love_ , would speak, but the poor man seemed too overwhelmed, so the angel whispered, “You deserve to be allowed to feel those things again, and I want to be the one to offer them to you.” 

He blinked a few times, releasing his hold on Aziraphale’s face and looking away for a moment, clearing his throat. “That’s not how it works, angel,” he sighed finally. “I may not technically be working for Downstairs any more, but I’m still Fallen. I don’t get to feel peace.” There was no anger in his voice, as there had been when he’d called himself unforgivable, just a kind of weary resignation. 

“Now that we’re together, as it were, I should say something poetic and reassuring, shouldn’t I?” he asked, squirming uncomfortably and wondering what he could possibly say to ease Crowley’s pain. 

“Try being yourself instead,” Crowley suggested, smiling tenderly down at him.

“Heaven is lost to us both now. But… I don’t mind that any more. As long as I have you, I don’t need Heaven and… well, I hope that one day you’ll be able to feel the same, as if all this is enough.” 

He frowned a little. “You think I don’t already think this is enough? _More_ than enough?”

Aziraphale grimaced, aware that he was making a terrible mess of this, and quite probably otherthinking wildly. Gulping, he forced himself to speak without thinking about what he was saying first. 

“I think… I think it’s only been a few hours since I’ve confessed to loving you as much as you love me. I think, after thousands of years of running away and rebuffing you, I… have things to prove now, or at least amends to make towards you. I don’t know how to do this. As badly as I’ve hurt you recently, I’m terrified of doing it all over again, but I want to try. You defied Heaven _and_ Hell to keep the world and its people safe. You deserve so much love and comfort and… and _connection_ , all the things you haven’t had.”

Crowley let out a soft, hissing sound and seized Aziraphale in a rough, urgent hug, pressing his face into the angel’s shoulder and breathing hard. 

“I…” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, pressing one hand against the small of his back and using the other to gently rub those warm shoulders, where his wings would be. “I love you. I love you so much, in ways I didn’t even know I _could_ love. It’s wonderful and terrifying, and I feel like I’ll die if I can’t show you how deeply it runs.” 

“You’re getting overexcited,” Crowley murmured into his shoulder, gentling his hold on Aziraphale. 

He laughed nervously and forced himself to relax again. He’d said what needed to be said, and Crowley seemed to understand. “Overexcited? If only you could have seen me after the first time we groomed. I was trembling while I cleared up the feathers. I couldn’t stop smiling, and I’m pretty sure I was singing to myself, too.”

“And there I was asleep in your bed?” he laughed, turning his head just enough to kiss Aziraphale’s throat. “Why didn’t you join me?”

“Oh, it would have been much too presumptuous, my dear!” he protested, smiling into Crowley’s hair. “Besides, you weren’t awake to provide consent and you looked far too darling to be roused.” 

The former angel snorted at his words, shaking his head. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Do what, my love?”

“Mmm, I love when you call me that, angel,” he purred, kissing his throat again, then straightening and smiling down at him, affectionate and just a little playful. As Aziraphale squirmed under his gaze, Crowley added more seriously, “You don’t have to prove your love. It’s _you_. You say you love me, so I know it’s true.” 

“I’ve known since that night at the Church, and it’s terrified me the entire time, Crowley. First just the idea that I loved a demon and, more recently… well… Gracious! I don’t know _how_ to love you, not in this particular way, but I’d very much like to learn.” 

“Oh, you sweet, darling little man.” From anyone else, those specific words would have sounded more than a bit condescending, but his voice and face were so full of love that it was impossible to take any offense. “You really are a little dove, aren’t you?”

“Heaven granted me a flaming sword to battle the forces of evil, Crowley,” he pointed out. “Appearances aside, I have always been a capable warrior, but our time together turned me into something else entirely. And I’m so grateful to you for that.” 

“I sometimes forget that about you, dove. A soldier.” 

Aziraphale made a mental note that being addressed by a pet name made him blush even worse than being invited to cuddle, topless, in public. But dove? They’d have to talk about that. ‘Angel’ just felt so much more appropriate and uniquely theirs. And, after everything they’d been through, he didn’t want to be referred to as a soldier ever again. 

“I renounced _everything_ I was designed to fight for, because of you, Crowley,” he whispered, pressing close. “I’m not a soldier anymore. Never again.”

Crowley tensed a little. “I didn’t mean to bring up what you lost. I know how much being a part of Heaven meant to you.”

“I will never forsake the Almighty, my love, but Heaven and its angels can go… do things to themselves.”

The former angel snorted again, but smiled adoringly down at Aziraphale. A tender kiss to the corner of his mouth, then Crowley whispered, against his cheek, “Unlike you, I was never a soldier. I was a craftsman. I wasn't created to fight. But, if I had to fight at the End, it could _only_ have been with you.”

“Likewise. After I discorporated and they ordered me to join my unit… the thought of taking up arms against you was what made me leave. But standing next to you with a sword in my hand, with you trusting in me, that felt as right in my heart as giving it away at the Garden did. Not that I _wanted_ to fight, but that was the only way I could have felt perfectly content with the idea.” 

“Aziraphale, I…” He trailed off, shaking his head and clearing his throat. Smiling wryly, he admitted, “I have been _much_ too honest in the last few minutes. I could kind of use a break.”

He could well imagine that Crowley did. Given the newness and gravity of it all, the angel was feeling light-headed. And dear Crowley had been hiding his own feelings for much longer. It must feel like drowning as everything came to the surface at once.   
  
Smiling his understanding, he rested a hand on the former angel’s chest, whispering, “There’s no hurry, dear one. We have all the time in the world. When this world is gone, we’ll pick another and move there.”

“And another after that, hmm, angel?” he chuckled, grinning. 

Giving a soft laugh of his own, Aziraphale pointed out, “The Heat Death of the universe may eventually become a bit of a problem.”

“Eventually, but we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

Laughing again, the angel noted, “We do appear to be _shockingly_ good at bridge-burning, don’t we?” 

“We really are. Who knew?” Crowley laughed, looking around. “I forgot how beautiful this place was.”

For his part, Aziraphale had almost forgotten how much pain that beauty had caused him. Those poor humans, forced out of paradise and thrust out into the big, dangerous world. And, really, when you thought about it, the same had been true of Crowley, with an added dose of pain and degradation for good measure. They’d ripped his feathers out before casting him down. Angels, the ones were supposed to be the good guys. Poor Crowley might not have entirely liked the other angels, but he couldn’t possibly have expected the punishment he’d undergone. All for asking questions!

“Aziraphale, are you okay?” he asked, slowly drawing the angel into his arms.

“Sorry, just thinking,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around Crowley and pressing his face into the other man’s shoulder. He’d always known that hugs could be comforting, but he’d had no idea how wonderful they could truly be.

“It upsets you to be here. We should go,” Crowley suggested.

Aziraphale didn’t want to leave. He’d missed the Garden, even if it was difficult to return, even just in a dream. But his friend was right. He often was. It was painful to consider how much had been lost, taken away from, people who really didn’t deserve it, Crowley included. Maybe especially Crowley. He tightened his hold on the other man, nodding against his shoulder. 

“You really enjoy hugging, don’t you, angel?” 

“More than I thought I would,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly up at Crowley. “Do you mind?”

He smiled faintly in response, shaking his head and tightening his hold on Aziraphale, like a man as starved for intimacy as the angel was. “Wake up on three?”

Aziraphale nodded in agreement as Crowley counted, then willed himself to wake up. He almost instantly found himself in bed, the former angel watching his with yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. 

“Oh, that’s disorienting,” Aziraphale groaned, rubbing his eyes. “How can you do it all the time?”

“Not _all_ the time, but dreams can be nice. Didn’t you like anything about yours?”

“I liked when you showed up.”

Crowley laughed at that, shaking his head. “Well, I would hope so.”

Smiling shyly, Aziraphale leaned close and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his friend’s mouth, reaching to join hands with him. Fingers twined, the angel edged closer, smiling shyly. Grinning , Crowley freed his hands and opened his arms to the angel.

“Get over here, dove.”

“Could you please not call me that?” he asked, snuggling close and resting his head against Crowley’s shoulder. “I like ‘angel’ much better.”

“Angel it is, then. But, speaking of doves, why wasn’t yours white? In the dream?”

“Not all doves are pure white,” he temporized. 

“You sure it wasn’t some kind of warning about tarnishing your soul? While hanging out with a snake?”

“If my soul is tarnished, then it’s been that way for centuries. So why have a dream _now_?” He shook his head. “No, I’m certain it was something else entirely, especially coming right after my prayer.”

“You’re biased. You’ve always believed that God approves of us. Why?”

“I just… feel it,” the angel answered, shrugging. “Inside, in my soul.”

“If you say so, angel.” Smiling faintly, he pressed his warm lips so Aziraphale’s forehead. “Let’s go back to sleep?”

He wasn’t really tired, but he still felt emotionally drained, so he nodded anyways. Closing his eyes he basked in Crowley’s beautiful warmth. He might never get used to sleep or dreaming, but he was already addicted to being close to his friend. Finally, after 6,000 years. 

Aziraphale had never realized he was missing anything, not until that first time his dear friend had started working his fingers through the angel’s damaged wings. An empty place in his chest had been filled, flooded with his love for Crowley, and Crowley's love for him. Today, cuddling on that hillside and laying here now, that warm sensation had only grown stronger. He might not sleep very often, but he made a note to be close to Crowley as often as possible: cuddling, sharing a bed, holding hands, he found himself wanting it all. It was all so wonderful and he never wanted it to end.

“Mmm, sleep well, angel,” Crowley mumbled, sounding more than half-asleep already. 

“You, too, my dear.” 

His friend didn’t answer, somehow asleep already. He did like his naps after all, and apparently he liked the sensation of holding Aziraphale in his arms and being held in return. Making a happy noise, he closed his eyes, not to sleep, but just to rest and enjoy the sensation of a warm body holding him close. It was Heavenly, or as near as one could come while wearing a human body and laying in the arms of a Fallen angel. 

He could only hope that he could make Crowley as happy and cherished as he felt, and he would do anything he could to make that happen. 

**END**


End file.
